Folklores

The Sun, The Moon, The Earth

Poems

Phases: A Collection of Poetry

A phase is defined as any stage in a series of events or a process of development; while we all go through different phases in life, at times we either forget to notice or simply become fearful of transitions, inadvertently being ignorant about the fact that this phenomenon is universal. In this short poetry collection, the blogger has attempted to capture this subtle yet powerful phenomenon – phases that are observable in every journey undertaken.

Here are the next three poems –

*

All hail the majestic fiery sun! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Sun

Glorious in this self-sacrificial act,

The sun spins silently on its spot

With an eye open and an eye closed,

Partly seeing the planetary drama and

Partly observing its blind burning core,

Loving-living the old eclipsing folklore.

Never out of tune or shying away

From that routine rotating pathway

As if in meditation and at peace,

Granting us our lives at lease.

*

We assume Time is standing still

Because of our sun’s steady will.

It is but a phase like the earlier ones

Where life played a different game and had won.


Moon-lover one, waiting for moon lover two.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Moon

Like a wave gushing its way through

The barriers and entering our hearts,

The Moon loves playing the darts,

Winking, listening and inspiring like a true

Poet in practice, moonlight as ink

Together the moon-lovers drink.

Such is the friendship between the seekers

And the moon; safekeeping promises and secrets,

Along with a lonely soul’s rising hope

Of fulfilling a decorated dream and Co.

*

And this personification of moon into a friend

And a secret keeper, holding hands till the end

Is another phase, another image of the moon;

Quiet, calm, disciplined, it’s coming out soon.


The awesome dancers, all hail the trio! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Earth

On a great grand gargantuan pilgrimage,

Orbiting its way, the same old and unique,

Transforming, adjusting with every coming phase,

Our Earth, our only home, this blue-green maze,

Gravitationally inclined, time-space bound,

Nurtures with freedom the beings found

Inhabiting its being, its vision, its dream;

Rhythmically revolving, rising, but never asleep,

Timed its timing with Time, the Earth

Listens earnestly, abiding by the unknown.

*

How forgetful are we, who are just a phase,

A passing reality on the way to its pilgrimage…

We appear to be short sighted and too eager

To conquer the unconquerable, our planet, our nurturer.

*


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Devendra Satyarthi – The Wanderer Sage

Jubilant stream meandering modestly…
Image by Layers from Pixabay

Gatherings under the giant Mahogany tree in the evenings, the jubilant stream meandering modestly and maybe also a talkative Koel’s parleys encouraged the wanderer… and the love stories, happy and incomplete ones, beaded in a melody and sung by folks for generations… it touched his soul.

Time failed to bind him as he travelled back and forth in the past and present to collect these melodies for posterity.

Nicknamed as Ghumakkad (wanderer) and Darvesh (saintly), Devendra Satyarthi (1908-2003) was a folklorist, poet, essayist, novelist and translator who wrote in Punjabi, Urdu, Hindi and English; he is famously known for his pioneering work, Giddha, an anthology of folk songs.

Travelling during the British Raj in an undivided India he met farmers, traders, tribals, mendicants and learnt from them their stories, listened to their songs and sang along.

Accumulating a treasure of around three thousand folk songs in fifty different languages, a beautiful feat in itself, he gifted it to the public for free; when All India Radio decided to pay him royalties for the folk songs, he refused it saying that the copyrights were vested in the motherland.

Rabindranath Tagore, who shared Devendra Satyarthi’s passion for folklores and folk songs, urged him to explore the world of folk literature throughout the country and also suggested him to write predominantly in his mother tongue i.e. Punjabi. Satyarthi obeyed him like a true disciple.

Folklores – the traditional beliefs, customs, and stories of a community, passed through the generations by word of mouth – certainly are a repository of knowledge that has an answer for the one who is astounded by life and its candour.

No doubt Devendra Satyarthi lived like a gipsy, he had to astound the norms so as to grasp our folklore heritage in a single lifetime.

‘मेरी प्रेयसी हीर नहीं है

न ही मैं रांझा

मैं पथिक पैर में चक्कर

मेरी प्रेयसी पथ की अभ्यस्त

चल पड़ती है उधर

जिधर मैं हो लेता हूं

न हंसकर, रोकर

नयनों में प्रिय नयन पिरोकर.’

(Translation – Neither is my beloved Heer*/ Nor am I Ranjha*/ I am a traveller/ And my beloved is habitual of the travelling life/ She walks along with me/ Wherever I leave for/ without a smile or tear/ with just love in her eyes.)

Devendra Satyarthi and his wife.
[Source – Devendra Satyarthi Smriti]

Living a life of a roamer, on the mercy of the others, travelling on almost no budget, this became impossible for Devendra Satyarthi’s wife after they had their first child.

Taking the responsibility of running the house, his wife started sewing work; for a while he too stayed back, working as an editor of a Hindi newspaper, but not for long.

His free-spirited folklorist’s soul made him embark on his next journey to different cities and villages.

I confess that it was the sewing machine which saved the family, I just scribbled on paper,” Satyarthi said so as an old man. His poems, novels, short stories, essays, folk song anthologies, his contemporaries and the readers speak differently though; he continues to be a wanderer sage for them.

Hazari Prasad Dwivedi, the famous Hindi novelist, historian, critic and scholar, wrote a poem praising Devandra Satyarthi in which he compared Satyarthi’s loner lifestyle with that of the sun and the moon in the sky, as he too walked alone, spreading brightness through his words.

One of his many noteable works.
[Source – JSKS]

Devindra Satyarthi fought for independence with songs of freedom, love, devotion, brotherhood and unity.

He gathered this harmonious spirit and shared it with the countrymen; leaders like Sarojini Naidu, Jawaharlal Nehru appreciated his work and so did the father of the nation, Mahatma Gandhi.

Many were foresighted in those times of the Raj and talked about the importance of recording the country’s cultural diversity, but few had the courage to step out of the cushioned life and do it. It required a lifetime, and Satyarthi dedicated his.”

Nahar Singh, a folklore expert

Awarded with accolades like the Padma Shri, the fourth highest Indian civilian award, Devindra Satyarthi continued working in his late eighties and passed away at ninety four.

In his rigorous journey, it was his passion for folk songs and folk tales and the unflinching support of his wife that made him a jovial philosopher-poet.

The wanderer sage.
[Source – Devendra Satyarthi Smriti]

A khadi kurta-pyjama, long white beard and hair, thick spectacles, a rough jhola-bag and a few notebooks clenched close to the chest, one might have called Devindra Satyarthi a strange, poor old man, unaware about his legacy and treasures.

A happy folklorist.
[Source – Devendra Satyarthi Smriti]

[Footnote* – Heer Ranjha is a tragic romantic folk story from Punjab.]


References –

Short Documentaries – Punjabi Academy Delhi; Sahitya Academy

Documentary – Main Hun Khanabadosh (I am a nomad/gipsy).

Hindi article – A tribute to Devendra Satyarthi

English article – Footloose sage Satyarthi, the man who walked, talked, gathered, wrote our stories


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